Doubled reflection in a darkened window

Prayer: I woke up sweating

I woke up sweating
and aching inescapably
and wanting to disappear
back into the blackness
of dreams -- where I am
disembodied perception
and sensory projection.

The river of mind
sucked me under,
dragged me along the rocky bottom --
the quickest path to sea.

My body, left behind like
a strange animal on shore
cries for its mother, needs
to be held. My mind snags
on a hazardous branch;
I am bent around the pile
of a poorly placed bridge.

Re-unite me if you must.
May I make peace
with the abandoned child of
my heart.

I apologize --
I too am perplexed.

Another in the “Prayer for Today” group. I decided to try and come up with titles for these at least so you can tell them apart, even though in my journal, they’re all just labeled, “Prayer for Today.” I also don’t love that as a label because it can be read kinda like “prayers for the 90s” or something hokey like that. “Teen Bible for Rad Group Study,” and “Prayers for Today” are liable to get put on the same book shelf, and I just wanna be clear that if you ever see my name in that section of the bookstore, someone fucked up. What I meant with the titles was that this is the prayer for me for the day I am dealing with. But I guess maybe also for you? I don’t know. Poetry is weird like that. Is it more for the writer or for the reader? I do it because I think I’d honestly die if I stopped writing. But also, part of writing is that it’s meant to communicate something with someone. Writing without an audience is talking to oneself, and I get so tired of myself.